


Denial and Runner Bites

by Nonchol



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Hurt No Comfort, I Tried, POV Second Person, So much angst, they both deserved BETTER
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21574264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonchol/pseuds/Nonchol
Summary: A short rewrite of how Riley's death could have been - mind the tags
Relationships: Ellie/Riley (The Last of Us)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Denial and Runner Bites

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't used a03 in so long, but I found this old thing in the drafts and half a decade later I'm still sad about Riley soooo  
> Honestly, I both love and hate that they didn't include Riley's death in Left Behind. Love cause we get to imagine how it went, but hate cause god I wish I knew what happened.

“Ellie?” You brush back a stray strand of hair and cock your head, hoping you could at least hide your nervousness. “Yeah?” You’re not completely shaking, and you figure that that’s good enough.

Riley's gaze, which has long turned distant and glazed, burns into your skull. You stare back with uncertainty. She's almost unrecognizable; Her skin is sickly pale and flushed with feverish red. But you know her too well, and can see past the infection. She's still Riley, for a little while at least, and you won't treat her as anything but. But something causes you to jerk your head back. Discomfort, fear, possibly both. You make a half-hearted attempt to justify yourself, but your mind is blank and you know Riley won't judge you. Not now. You blink, startled by a strange and gurgling laugh that suddenly forces its way up Riley's throat. You hide a shudder and curl farther into yourself. Thankfully, she doesn't seem to mind.

"This is stupid," she chuckles, but her voice isn't right. Hours ago, you would have teased her for it; It reminds you of the old crackhead women back in the Quarantine Zone, the kind that talk too loudly about the wrong kind of things to the wrong kind of people. But Riley would rather drink until her face flushes rose (A sugary, sweet pink that makes your heart ache and flip at the same time) and her voice would raise almost singsoningly. It hits you; no more drinking, no more singsong Riley. And what does that lead to? No more laughing, or midnight cuddles, or sneaking off to the mall. No more puns, or bad jokes, or water gun fights. You want to cry, but suffice with a soft "yeah," and press yourself closer to her. You've lost your external anger at the world; There are no more pots to break out of frustration. Her head slumps forward as if her back has finally given out, which you fear it has, and she mumbles silent curses. Suddenly, her arched back shudders and rattles your bones. It's terrifying and inhuman like, but you close your eyes and pretend that everything's fine. She's still Riley after all.

"Hey, Ellie?" You blink again, but don't meet her gaze. _Weak._ "Maybe it's-" Her lips pause, mid-word with another gurgle; you don't correct her, and she doesn't clear her throat. "-better this way." She winks, which causes her bulbous and puss-filled eye to budge out. "Option three." _Shut up shut up shut up._

"We agreed," you remind her. "I'm not backing out now." She shakes her head like she's instructing a child.

"Together. We agreed to turn together." You're stubborn, but doubtful. It had been awhile since the bite and, while it was evident that Riley was turning, you haven't shown any symptoms. It can't be true. You have to die, you have to turn. You have to be with Riley.

"And we will," you say eventually. Riley's brow creases, but thankfully she choices not to press it. Instead, she hums softly and shrouds you both in silence one more. You don't stop her, and you almost find the scene peaceful, especially when her trembling fingers return to untangle your hair. Where they belong. You still haven't found the silence uncomfortable by the time Riley breaks it.

“How much longer do you think I have?” she croaks. You’re quiet and unsure, but can’t hide annoyance.

“We still have," you pause. An hour? Twenty minutes? Ten? You don't know, which terrifies you even more; Riley could turn any minute. Eventually, you force a shrug. "I don't know." Her gaze is blank and glassy, as if she hadn't asked a question, much less expected an answer.

"Okay," she whispers. Unsure, you nod. Intentional or not, Riley's left the silence awkward. You hum softly, just to take your mind off the infection for a second and rearrange yourself so that your back presses against her knees. She remains still, unmoving. "Hey?" You feel her forehead and frown. Too warm. Way too warm. "Riley?" After a moment, her gaze flickers back to you.

"Mhmm?" She's still here.

"How ya feeling?" You can't hide the worry in your voice.

"Felt worse," She says with a shrug. You know her answer, but you ask anyway;

"Feel sick?" Her head cocks to side.

"A little." You run your arms up and down your arms, stopping at the bite mark. It stopped bleeding hours ago and, aside from the bubbling crystals surrounding it, could have passed for a normal scar. You can't see Riley' s bite and you're too much of a coward to ask about it.

"Ellie?" You blink, startled by her voice.

"Yeah?" There's white foam trickling down her chin; She makes no effort to wipe it away.

"I think-" She sputters into another series of gurgles. Your breathing quickens. _Please please please stop_. She tries to speak again, only for her hands to spring up and around her neck. A ragged, terrified breath echoes across the room. Her eyes clamp shut. "Ellie." You can't tell if it's the infection or terror causing her body to shake. You don't want to know. "Ellie, you have to go." _No!_ You jump up indignantly. Her gurgling pounds your skull. The white foam seeps through her fingers, now sparkling with hints of red.

"Riley I-" With a crunch, her head jolts backwards and against the wall. The hands around her neck go lax. You're dimly aware of more blood trickling down her back. She gasps out your name; a silent plea for you to leave. But you can't. You can't leave her. She can't leave you. _Please please please not her._ You’ve never prayed to God before. You might have considered it before, but you’ve never really prayed to him. But Riley’s next to you, spasming in a puddle of her own blood and _please someone fucking help her._

"Ellie-" Her hand slouches forward. At her gun. Alarmed, you snarl and clutch the pistol to your chest.

"You can't go," you beg. "Please, Riley." You're selfish. So fucking selfish. _Please don't leave me._ It's not a question; you can't live without her. You can't be thrusted back into this lonely fucking world again. _Please I just got her back._ She lifts her right hand in a poor attempt to cupping your cheek, as if you were a precious treasure. Her mouth opens and closes like a fish, until her pleas have turned into gurgling snarls.

"Marlene," she hisses, spitting out another clout of blood. "Find her." A sob, loud and snotty and brimming with all your pleas claws up your throat. You try to speak, but it's impossible to hear anything over her moans. Head spinning like a hurricane, your legs finally give out. The gun topples from your fingers.

“Riley,” you beg. “Riley please, just a little longer.” You don't notice her trembling hand reaching for the pistol, but suddenly its muzzle is pressed tightly against her head. The rising sun illuminates her back, and she's glowing like some all-mighty, bloodsoaked goddess.

_We lasted a day._

_That's more than most people, right?_

_Think about that._

But you don't. You don't think about that cause your selfish, so god damn selfish. She can’t leave you alone again. For the first time since the bite, her gaze dimly flickers. Her wobbling lips curl inward like she's trying to smile. You stop breathing. "Ri-"

_Bang._


End file.
